


Apocalypse Party

by Fire_Bear



Series: Birthday Paladins [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Apocalypse, Birthday, Birthday Cake, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, M/M, Making Up, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-07-24 00:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: The world has ended and it's Keith's birthday - not something he expected to be concerned with, considering everything that's happened...





	Apocalypse Party

**Author's Note:**

> This is the original idea I had for all the paladins birthdays and the reason I even did this series. Mainly because I thought, hey, Keith's birthday is close to Halloween! So I can write a Halloween-themed birthday story!
> 
> I only had the first part thought of and I thought of something as I wrote. Which is probably why it's not that good a story... ^^"

Sun shone through the gaps to land on the bed Keith was sleeping on. It was what woke him up that morning and he shifted, frowning as he remembered the past few weeks. His fingers clenched around the hilt of his long knife before he’d even opened his eyes. When he finally did, he immediately scanned the room, taking it in.

Nothing about it had changed overnight, looking bare despite the large pieces of furniture squeezed into it. There was a queen-sized bed, a broad wardrobe, a tall chest of drawers, a wide dressing table and stool, a stand for the TV and games consoles and a couple of beanbags. The blue beanbag had been ripped and the beads from within it were strewn across part of the floor, almost indistinguishable from the cream carpet. At least, it had once been cream - now there was dirt tracked over it and squished in, making it black in places. Books and DVDs and games filled some bookcases, all with a layer of dust. A book that Keith had moved now had clear fingerprints embedded in the dust: a bookmark stuck out of the middle of it. Makeup from the dressing table had toppled from it and rolled every which way. Keith had kicked some out of his way the night before. Clothes had been flung across the room, some of them packed neatly into a suitcase that had never been closed. The mirror had something upon it which had dried a dark brownish-red, splattered across it carelessly.

His eyes landed on the storage units that he’d pulled across to the door. Both of them had been heavy but he hadn’t bothered to look inside them. A table and the bedside table were wedged against the window, despite being on the upper floor of the house. He felt safer with it there. Or, at least, as safe as he could feel in this world.

Satisfied that he wasn’t in danger, Keith rolled off the bed. Pulling the knife out from under the pillow, he checked it over, carefully and gently pressing his thumb to it. Thankfully, it was still sharp, drawing a red slither along his digit. He stuck it in his mouth and sucked on it a little, pulling a face at the stinging pain. When he pulled it out, the bleeding had already slowed but he had to keep sucking on it as he checked over his other weapons. Those consisted of a machete and a revolver that he’d found in an open vault several towns back. The pistol, of course, was just in case he’d dropped both of his other weapons.

Keith made his way to the door (grabbing his backpack on the way) and paused, listening for any noise on the other side. When he was satisfied that he could hear only distant birdsong and his own breathing, Keith grabbed hold of the storage units and began to push them aside. He grunted and gritted his teeth as he dug his heels in. It took a couple of minutes before he’d moved them enough that he could open the door. Once he had, he peered through the gap into the shadowed hallway. There was no movement, no matter which way he turned his head.

Convinced there was nothing in the hall, Keith slipped from the room and made his way down to the bathroom. He’d checked the night before and there hadn’t been anything in there. Hopefully, nothing had wandered in during the night. Keith stepped over a shoe, abandoned near the stairs when he reached it, trying not to look at what was in it. Carefully, he used his foot to gently push open the door he’d left ajar; he hadn’t wanted to use the handle in case it made too much noise. Thankfully, the moderately sized bathroom was still empty, save for the splotchy shower curtain which was strewn over part of the floor, ripped from its rail. Here, too, the place had a layer of dust. Keith had to wipe it away from the mirror on the emptied medicine cabinet.

Looking into it, he grimaced. His hair was a mess from sleep and his eyes were bloodshot. He hadn’t been getting much sleep for the past few months - nobody had. Last night had been a rare opportunity for a bed and the chance to relax. His clothes were rumpled and they probably smelled. They were spattered with spots of red and black and grey and he grimaced at it.

He reached for the tap and tested it. Of course, nothing came out. There probably hadn’t been running water for some time. Sighing, Keith dropped his bag and crouched down to rummage through it. He had been carrying treated water with him for a while and he had a bottle and a half left. At some point, he would have to use one of the maps to find out where the nearest water source was. In the meantime, he put the plug in the sink and poured out just enough for him to be able to dip his hands in it. As quickly as he could, eager to be on the move, he scrubbed water over his face. Then he ran a hand through his messy hair, smoothing it out and pulling out the tugs as best he could. When he deemed it good enough, he attempted to wash out the spots from his clothes. It didn’t work: all of it was ingrained after being repetitively stained.

Just as he sighed in exasperation, he heard a noise from downstairs. A creaking noise, like a door had opened or a floorboard had been stepped on. Not bothering to dry his hands on the musty towel, he shoved the bottle he had used back in his bag and fastened it, trying to listen over the loud beating of his heart. There were more noises, shuffling and clinking as if something was moving around and bumping into things.

Someone - or some _thing_ was in the house.

He had to get out before they found him, before they investigated fully. Keith was going to have to slip past them while they were scavenging - or worse. Sticking to the edge of the room, Keith carefully placed his feet so he could move as silently as possible. Heel, ball of foot, toes… Even as he moved, concentrating, he listened as hard as he could. Nothing seemed to be coming up the stairs. One of them creaked. He had noticed that last night and had hoped that would be enough of an alert to wake him. Thankfully, he was awake now and waited for it. But he reached the door of the bathroom without hearing it and was able to slip out of the door before he heard anything else.

There, at the top of the stairs (steadfastly ignoring that shoe), Keith listened intently. Now that he was out of the echoing bathroom, he could hear… whispering. His eyebrows raised. Another group of people travelling? There were scraping noises and more creaking and… was it coming from the living room? Keith couldn’t figure out why anyone would go in there. When he had checked last night, there had been nothing of interest. No supplies, no medicine, no water, not even an occupant or former occupant.

Suddenly, there was a crashing noise and Keith jumped, his heart racing as he forced himself to breathe. Before he could properly recover, a voice followed it, louder than before and clear enough that he could hear the words. “Lance! What’re you _doing_?”

Keith relaxed immediately, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. He had thought it was someone who was likely to kill him but it looked as though he was lucky. Or unlucky, considering the night before. Remembering what had happened, Keith winced. Would it be wise to go down to see them? Then again, there wasn’t anything else he could do, not when Shiro was likely with them. So, sighing heavily, he made his way downstairs, not bothering to keep quiet now.

Whatever they were doing, they didn't seem to hear him and they didn't come to the door. He was the one to open it instead, prepared to jump out of the way of a weapon. But he needn’t have bothered being so cautious: he heard Hunk squeak in fright and some clattering noises and knew they were scrambling for them. Evidently, they hadn't seen any threats around the house and he had taken them by surprise. Keith stepped into the room and had to pause to take in the sight.

They had moved the couches aside, pushing them right up to the walls. The frame of a coffee table had been placed on top of one, on its side. Keith could see a single, long, jagged piece of glass where the top of it should have been. Whatever had fallen - books, DVDs, photos, hanging art - had been moved into a pile in one corner. A different table, perhaps used to display the ornaments now on the top of the aforementioned pile, had been left just in front of the couches. It was piled with as much food as Hunk could find: canned fruit; actual fruit, wrinkled and bruised; chips and dips; a few bars of chocolate. And, since they’d been carrying around a generator and a portable oven, there was also a small selection of cupcakes, as well as one big one. Upon it was some colourful decoration and several candles, unlit. A chair, presumably dragged from the kitchen or dining room, had been put in front of the TV which had fallen from its stand. Lance and Pidge were hovering beside it, their arms filled with roughly made bunting.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked, looking around at all of them.

“Keith!” Hunk exclaimed from his place by the table. “I- You’re awake!”

“Yes.”

“We’re, uh-”

“Not ready yet!” Pidge exclaimed. “Go back upstairs.”

“I was just getting ready to leave,” Keith told her. “So, if I’m not allowed to be here-”

“Don’t go,” said Allura, hastily. “We just…” She looked towards Lance and Pidge. “Let us finish setting up.”

Frowning, Keith fully entered the room and closed the door behind him. “What is all this, anyway?” he asked as Shiro and Hunk converged on Lance and Pidge.

Coran chuckled from where he was fiddling with something in the corner. It wasn’t until the music started - Whiskey in the Jar by Metallica - that Keith realised that they’d brought the battery-powered speakers and his own, old iPod that he'd opted to leave behind on their last stop. He blinked at Coran who only smiled widely. “Why, don’t you know what day it is? Besides the day of the Meal-Tub Plot, of course!”

“The Meal-Tub _what_?” Lance asked. When Keith glanced over to him, he had righted the broken TV. Now, he was on the chair, one end of the bunting in his hands. His back was to Keith, though, and Keith felt a little… anxious. After last night, would Lance want to talk to him? Keith knew he was right but Lance’s love of the people in his life was frighteningly bright and strong: he wasn’t sure Lance would ever give up on his choice.

“The Meal-Tub Plot,” Coran repeated. “It was something that happened in England in Sixteen Seventy-Eight. You see, people - particularly kind and charitable women - would-”

“Coran,” said Shiro, gently. “Maybe you should remind him what the date actually is…”

“Oh! Have you forgotten that, Number Four? It’s October Twenty-Third!”

“In other words,” said Pidge, “it’s your birthday.”

“My…?” Keith blinked at them and then looked around the room, taking in everything. Now that he looked again, he could recognise the classic birthday party things dotted around. Bunting, cake, music, everyone he knew… “This is for me?”

Allura giggled. “You were right, Shiro. Of course it’s for you, Keith. We’re your friends and you deserve a birthday. There’s no reason to forget about it.”

“Yeah” said Hunk, making an expansive gesture. “I mean, we all got birthdays before everything happened, so it’s only fair that you get one, too!”

“And we could _all_ use some cheering up,” Shiro added.”

There was some shuffling noises and Keith looked over at Lance where he was carefully climbing down from the chair. He was bent over and Keith found himself watching Lance’s ass as he wiggled it slightly. With a grunt, Lance got to ground level and Pidge moved the chair over. “Not that we’re ready yet,” Lance said as he huffed a breath. “You wake up way too early, man.”

“Um… sorry?” Keith said, a little uncertain. Despite the fact that Lance was actually speaking to him, he still hadn’t turned around. Was he still angry at Keith? Had he only come here because everyone else had?

“I wasn’t-” Lance began, spinning around. He forgot he was on a chair and nearly toppled off it. Keith’s eyes widened and he took a large step forward. Thankfully, Shiro was nearby and he managed to catch Lance with his left arm. His right arm was mostly weaponized prosthetic so he was careful to keep that out of the way, something Keith thought was incredible, since he would have instinctively wrapped his arms around Lance.

“Watch what you’re doing,” said Shiro with an exasperated smile. He set Lance down on the floor. Lance gave Shiro a grateful smile, face red, that Shiro didn’t acknowledge. “And we can probably just forgo the bunting.”

“But!” exclaimed Lance. “It’s, like, _essential_!”

“I think the cake’s more important than the bunting,” Hunk told him.

“And we’ve got music,” Pidge pointed out.

“And we’re all here,” added Allura. “I think friends at a party is more important.”

“And presents!” Coran announced, leaping from his place to bound across the room. Keith followed his path with his eyes and spotted the sabre that was propped up in another corner, hidden by the pile of obsolete furniture. His eyes widened and his eyebrows raised, pleasantly surprised that they had decided to give him another weapon, another way to help protect them all.

“You… Where did you find that?” he asked as Coran plucked it from its place and hurried back to him.

“In the house across the street. It was kept in their attic which we searched last night,” Coran explained. “There were some other things but we all felt you would like this the best. In fact, I would like to inspect this at some point, as it may very well be the genuine article! Just think-”

“Why were you searching the house?” Keith asked. He took the sword, slowly and reverently. Despite what had happened last night, they had still thought to give this to him?

“Well, yeah,” said Lance, still pouting at his bunting. “We had to find you presents…” He trailed off and glanced up at Keith. They stared at each other for a moment before Keith felt the need to look away. There was still an awkward air between them and Keith wanted to apologise - but not here, not in front of everyone. The very idea had his heart racing and a flush spreading to his cheeks.

“Okay, let’s not start another-” Pidge began.

“Hey! Not now!” Lance objected.

“All right, everyone,” said Shiro, rolling his eyes at Keith. “Let’s forget everything and have a good time.”

“But,” said Keith, still reeling, “we should be moving on… Right?”

Shiro smiled and approached him, his right arm held at an awkward angle. Allura had truly done what she could for him but the prosthetic was dangerous enough that he could hurt himself if he wasn’t careful. Shiro placed his left hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that just now, Keith. We’ll celebrate your birthday and then, depending on weather and time, we’ll move on. This place is safe, for now, and we can afford to rest. Especially you - you’ve not stopped since this all started.”

“Can we start singing ‘Happy Birthday’ now?” Hunk asked, reaching for the cake.

“Yeah, c’mon,” said Pidge. “We’ve got cake to eat!”

“I…” Keith started, his face feeling warm.

“No protesting!” Lance declared, though he still wouldn’t look at Keith. “Happy birthday, okay?”

“Yes, happy birthday!” Allura said, starting up a round of applause.

“Happy birthday, Keith!”

“Happy birthday!”

Keith ducked his head to hide his smile as his friends chorussed their well wishes and forced him to blow out the candles.

* * *

A few hours later, Keith noticed that Lance was missing.

He frowned, trying to remember how long it had been since he’d last seen him. After all, in this world, if someone was missing for too long, _anything_ could have happened. Worried, he glanced at the door before looking back at his friends. Hunk was by the table, munching on something he had made that people had been too full to eat. Apparently, it wouldn’t keep, so they couldn’t take it with them. Pidge was fiddling with her phone, now attached to the speakers so they could play more of a variety of songs. Shiro sat beside Coran, politely listening to him tell one of his stories. He was scratching at where his arm met the thin metal arm Allura had attached, the only thing she could use in lieu of a surgeon who could actually attach a moving prosthetic. She was watching him, a cup at her lips, eyes intent. None of them seemed to notice that they were missing one of their number, or the fact that he was hovering by the door.

Taking the chance, Keith slipped from the room, hoping he’d find Lance alive.

Once in the hall, Keith looked at the stairs. It could be the case that Lance was in the bathroom. Then again, for as long as Keith had known him, Lance refused to go upstairs in a house on his own. He supposed that might have been from past experience but Keith had never thought to ask. Maybe he should have. Regardless, Keith decided that it was unlikely that he’d find Lance upstairs. Thinking for a moment, Keith turned towards the back door and made his way there, sure Lance would be doing something unnecessary.

Sure enough, when he stepped out onto the back porch, he found Lance standing on the overgrown lawn, his machete in hand. As far as Keith could tell, Lance was squinting into the trees at the back of the property. Part of the fence had been knocked over and Keith - and, apparently, Lance - had no doubt that anything coming for them would appear from there. Quietly, Keith made his way down to him. It wasn’t until he stepped onto the grass and started making rustling noises that Lance turned.

“Hey,” said Keith, glancing at him before looking out at the shadowy vegetation.

“Ah, hey, man,” Lance replied, giving him a small smile. “What’re you doing out here? Your party’s inside.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“We’ve been making checks every so often to see if there’s anyone around,” Lance explained. “None of us have seen anything. I was just about to come back in.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been gone a while.

Lance gave him a look. “Have you been watching me or something?”

“No,” Keith retorted, looking away.

“Sure,” said Lance. Obviously, he didn’t sound convinced.

“I, uh,” Keith said. He sighed heavily and stepped closer. Lance turned fully towards him with a frown. “I wanted to talk to you about last night…”

“Ah. Yeah…”

They both fell silent, looking anywhere but each other. Every time Keith tried to look at Lance, his friend glanced at him and he chickened out. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there for but he finally managed to pry his mouth open. “Um, I just…”

“Mm.” When Keith glanced up, he found Lance grimacing apologetically. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I mean…” He sighed and lifted his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I know you’re trying to keep everyone safe. I _get that_ . But… I just… I’m not sure what I’d do if I found out that I could’ve saved my family, y’know? There’s…” Trailing off, Lance hesitated, glancing at Keith from under his eyelashes. “It kinda feels like I have something stuck in my chest, y’know? Like… Like, at any moment this could explode and just- If I just _knew_ they were okay but we can’t because of the stupid _phones_ -”

“No, I understand,” Keith said, though he couldn’t really. After all, there was no-one for Keith to worry about. Shiro was the person he was closest to and he was safe and sound inside. “And I’m sorry for what I said. They _are_ important. I just… Everyone important to me is here. And, y’know, inside, for my birthday.”

Slowly, Lance began to grin and Keith felt like he could look at him for more than a few seconds at a time. “Really? You liked it?”

“Yeah. I… I wasn’t expecting it. I mean, I’ve never really had a birthday party before. Not one I enjoyed, anyway.”

Lance snorted. “Figures. The world had to end before you got a decent birthday party.”

“What’s that mean?” Keith said, eyes narrowing.

“I just mean that you had the worst luck before now. From what you told us, anyway.” Lance smiled at him. “But now you’ve got us so everything's looking up, right?”

“Hmm.” Keith eyed him, amused. “I dunno. I met _you_ , didn’t I?”

With a gasp, Lance pressed his free hand to his chest. “How dare you? I am a _delight_.”

“Sure.”

Clearly pleased, Lance lowered his hand. “So… Friends?”

“Hmmm…”

“Aw, c’mon-” Lance began, but he was interrupted by a rustling noise from the trees.

Both of them turned to see what it was. It didn’t take long. Before Keith could regain his breath from the surprise, one of _them_ burst through the gap in the fence. Not just any of them - it was a fast one. And it was headed straight for him.

“Keith!” Lance cried out.

He didn’t get a chance to move out of the way before Lance slammed into him from the side. Keith fell to the ground, hitting it hard. Lance followed him down, landing on Keith’s chest and driving the wind from him. Footsteps thudded by and Keith quickly realised that Lance had probably just saved his life.

Turning his head, Keith watched as it turned around, snarling and growling. He took in its lean body, muscles still evident in its arms, bared to the world. The skin was an unhealthy pall; it looked like dough, the skin sagging. Grey and black strands of hair were tangled into a mop on its head, though there were clumps missing. Its eyes were vacant and milky, the pupils blown wide and the irises pale. The shirt it wore was twisted and ripped and the belt on its jeans had been cut somehow, bits of it hanging from the loops. Its feet were black with dirt and, probably, blood. A bite had been taken from its neck, though it had dried and scabbed, creating a mess that stuck there.

Once the Runner (as they had taken to calling the fast zombies) had turned, it came for them again. Lance didn’t even bother to look; he grabbed Keith’s arms and rolled them away. Keith understood his intention and helped to roll them further. The zombie was going too fast to react to that and lunged at the ground where they had been. With the zombie on the ground - Runners always had difficulty getting back up - Lance stopped them with him on top.

“Shit,” he said, panting. “I dropped my machete.”

Heart pounding, Keith shoved at Lance’s shoulders. “Let me up, then.”

Lance did as he was told and scrambled to his feet. Quickly, he pulled Keith up. Before Keith could pull out one of his weapons, however, Lance placed an urgent hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Uh uh, birthday boy. You go back inside. _I’ll_ handle this.”

“What? No,” protested Keith. I’m not leaving you out here on your own.”

A growling noise garnered their attention. The Runner was halfway to its feet, though it was still stumbling. Keith had barely glimpsed the situation when Lance grabbed his elbow and began to propel him towards the porch. “Get inside,” Lance ordered. “I’ve got this.” He gave him a shove when they reached the steps and Keith stumbled up them. Steadying himself on the nearest post, Keith quickly turned to find Lance bending over to pick up his fallen machete.

At the same instant, the Runner turned towards him, growl increasing in volume.

“Lance!” Keith called out, alarmed.

Neither of them had the chance to move. The Runner charged at Lance and he barely had the time to lift his weapon. He held it out, one hand on the handle and the other, palm flat, holding it firm. It was lucky he did; he was able to keep the zombie’s teeth from grazing him, the machete pushing at its mouth. The weight and momentum made Lance slide backwards as he tried to dig his heels in. Keith could see that he intended to push over the Runner before he finished it off. He could also see that it wasn't going to work and he reached for his knife.

Sure enough, Lance’s foot caught on a piece of unyielding vegetation and he toppled backwards, crying out as he fell. Keith drew his knife as he watched the zombie follow him. Thankfully, Lance had the presence of mind to keep his weapon raised, pushing at the Runner which was finding it hard to reach him. Its teeth kept clashing as it strained to reach Lance, its arms scrabbling at the ground instead of helping it.

Without any hesitation, Keith darted over and, before the Runner could register the easier target, he stabbed the thing in the back of the head. The knife easily slid in and up, into the Runner's brain. For a moment, it hissed, it's mouth open wide. Looking beyond it, Keith could see Lance’s screwed up, disgusted face as he turned aside: zombie saliva landed on his cheek to make him grimace more. Then the Runner collapsed, Lance guiding it to the side so that he could quickly slide out from under it.

There was a silence. Lance stood up and used his dirty sleeve to wipe at his face, still disgusted. “I thought I said to go inside.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t,” Keith retorted, looking Lance up and down. “Are you okay? Did it hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Lance insisted, giving up on his face.

Keith could still see the disgusting zombie saliva, all black and red and grey. He grimaced and stepped up to Lance. Reaching up a gloved hand, he used that to wipe at Lance’s face till it was gone. “That was close,” he murmured, glancing up at Lance.

His eyes were wide, staring at Keith. Then he slowly blinked and shook his head. “Yeah, whatever. We gotta go.”

Nodding, Keith followed him as Lance marched back to the house. Where there were Runners, there were always Walkers and an entire horde of mixed zombies. They would have to leave now if they wanted a head start.

Just before he went through the door, Keith paused and looked back at the fallen zombie, its eyes staring at the porch. It really had been a close call. If he hadn’t come out to find him, Lance could easily have been overwhelmed… He shuddered at the thought, his heart still thumping far too fast. Keith had been worried there.

If he had lost Lance…

He shook his head and hurried after Lance, hoping he would be able to keep all his friends safe during their journey. Keith couldn’t fail any of them - and he didn’t intend to.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts!  
> #1: It was Lance's idea for a birthday party! He's been planning it for a couple of weeks and then...  
> #2: The night before, Keith and Lance had an argument. Lance wants to find his family who are due south (maybe) and everyone else sorta wants to go north to where there's a safe space near Canada somewhere. Keith said some things, Lance said some things and it ended with Keith storming off and across the road to a different house.  
> #3: Shiro's arm is off because he ended up with a group led by a man named Zarkon. He was on a scavenging mission when his group was attacked by zombies and he was bitten. They managed to get away but, when he got back to the compound, Haggar decided that his arm had to come off to stop the zombie virus spreading. And it worked! But then Shiro heard her talking about experimenting on other people... So he got outta there and bumped into Keith. (Keith either knew him beforehand and was super relieved or just met him but he's the closest person to him cause he's the one he's known the longest.)  
> #4: They all go south! Because Lance is determined to go south, with or without everyone, they all stick together.
> 
> I'm not sure what would happen afterwards. There are several ways:  
> Super Good End!: They find Lance's family and they get to the safe space (where everything is safe and warm, haha).  
> Good End: Lance saves someone's life and gets bitten by a zombie! But he's immune so it's all okay.  
> Bad End: Lance saves someone's life and is shot/stabbed/etc and dies in Keith's arms.  
> Super Bad End: Lance saves someone's life and is torn apart by zombies.  
> Super Angsty Bad End: Lance saves someone's life and is bitten - and he turns into one. Cue love confessions and tears and Keith having to kill Lance maybe, or leaving him behind where he'll be killed by the army when they finally get themselves together.
> 
> I've sorta done that last one before so... maybe not.
> 
> Oh, and, by the way, the [Meal Tub Plot](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Cellier) is a real thing.


End file.
